Til Death Do Us Part
by Crystal Dawn
Summary: Ten years after the events of the manga, Ichigo is a full-fledged agent of Soul Society. When he's sent on a routine konso, he meets the one person he had hoped he would never see again - the wife of a former friend. But all is not what it seems...
1. Chapter 1: Prelude

**Title:** Til Death Do Us Part: Chapter One - Prelude

**Warnings:** het (IchiHime), ANGST, dysfunctional relationships, adult themes, severe deconstruction of another ship

**Spoilers:** This is set ten years after the series, so spoilers up to current chapters

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Actually, it'll probably be closer to monthly. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

* * *

As Ichigo left the senkaimon, the edges of his shihakusho flapping in the wind, he looked down at the streets far below him.

This was his hometown, Karakura-cho. He hadn't been back for any real length of time for the past ten years. On Yamamoto's orders, he'd been sequestered in Soul Society, almost directly upon the ending of the wars. He wasn't allowed to say goodbye to anyone. He wasn't allowed to send word to anyone. Oh, his father knew; he knew he'd been informed. But he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to his sisters, to Chad, to Orihime, to Ishida, to Shinji, to Urahara, to anybody. His body lapsed into a coma and was later cremated in the traditional style. For all intents and purposes, it was now as if he'd never existed. Kurosaki Ichigo was dead.

They hadn't been _bad_ to him, necessarily. Oh sure, they'd destroyed his life. He was bitter about that beyond words. All of the things promised to him as a human teenager - high school graduation, college, a career, watching his sisters grow up, a girlfriend, maybe even a wife - all of those things had been stolen from him. In some cases, those things had even been given to someone else.

But he still had Renji and Rukia, Rangiku and Toushirou, Eleventh Division and all their friends. He'd made more friends - Momo, Shunsui, the men in Division Five, even Nanao to some extent. They had helped him adjust and dulled some of that pain of separation. But they couldn't take it away entirely.

So here he was, ten years after he'd left, in for yet another short visit during which he wasn't given time or leave to contact the people he'd left behind. Here he was, watching the city streets below, cars passing below like ants, confident none of the passersby could see him. Here he was, wanting to punch Yamamoto in his old, wrinkled face for what was probably the millionth time.

The real reason he was here now was to perform a konso. In truth, it was a stolen assignment. All he knew was that it had been intercepted for him and that it was urgent he perform it before anyone else do it. He wasn't given any more information. He assumed there wasn't time for a full briefing, and since when do konso require briefing anyway? So he'd taken it, even though he was busy, even though it was a menial task that anyone fresh out of the Academy could do. Hell, didn't Academy students even perform konso? He'd ask Momo next time he got a chance.

As he descended towards the coordinates on his Soul Pager, he saw it. An accident, single car, surrounded by onlookers and ambulances. He couldn't see the body; it had already been bagged and loaded into the ambulance. It was odd, though. The car's driver's side door was open and there was a suited businessman nearly in hysterics as he spoke to the police officer taking notes beside him. Even though Ichigo couldn't properly hear him, he could imagine that what he was describing was the deceased running in front of his car. Ichigo only hoped it wasn't a small child; those were the most depressing. As he landed behind the thick crowd, his sandaled feet padding softly on the sidewalk, the scene of the accident vanished behind the sea of their backs.

As he looked around for the soul he had to send to Soul Society, though, he felt a familiar reiatsu. It was soft and gentle, and if he hadn't been right upon her at the moment, he'd probably have missed her. His heart froze in his throat; he hadn't seen her in ten years. He hadn't gone to her wedding, even though Rukia had encouraged him to. He didn't think he'd have been able to bear watching her walk down the aisle with another man. He wasn't even sure he was welcome there. What if he found out she hadn't missed him at all? Before he had been pulled away by Yamamoto, he was sure he'd be her boyfriend when everything was all over. Even after he'd been pulled away, he'd nursed a weak but persistent hope that he'd be able to come back for her, he'd be able to finally see her again and set things right the first chance he got. Hell, maybe there would even be something between them again. But when he heard news of her engagement and subsequent marriage five years later, he couldn't help but feel betrayed.

Something changed within Ichigo then, and his friends noticed it. When Rukia came to tell him what the wedding was like - how the convention hall they'd held it in was, how many (or in this case, few) people were there, how the reception was, what was served, how the bride looked, how she'd asked after him - he barely moved from his desk. He hardly showed any sign that he'd heard her at all, applying his seal to paper after paper. Eventually, she went away and left him to his work.

It was days before he even spoke to anyone in more than 'yes'es and 'no's or, more commonly, non-committal grunts, and weeks before he was even seen outside his office. In all honesty, he still hadn't recovered, all these years later. He'd lost something precious to him then - a hope, a precious image - and there was no way to replace it now. She was someone else's wife. She'd moved on with her life, a life in the real world that didn't include him anymore.

He would bear it, though. He'd put on a hard mask and do his damn job and then he'd go back to Soul Society and tell Rangiku to get him so wasted he would forget he'd even visited. She of all people would understand his need to drink himself into oblivion after this. As he weeded his way through the crowd to get to the accident, he steeled himself. He hoped against hope that she wouldn't notice him and that he'd be able to just pass by without attracting her attention. But as he drew closer to the scene of the accident, her reiatsu only got stronger. And finally, at the edge of the crowd, he saw her.

Her red hair fell in a straight wave down her back, just like he remembered it. She had her hands folded behind her back, delicate fingers curling against her long, pale skirt. He figured she might have come out to heal the wounded, but upon seeing the crowd, decided not to discharge her powers. As he drew up behind her, towards the accident, he looked away, unable to keep his eyes on that nostalgic image for more than a few seconds.

"Hi, Kurosaki-kun," she said softly. He could tell by her voice that she hadn't turned towards him. It was a voice that he hadn't forgotten, even in the past ten years. He sometimes still heard it even in his dreams, calling for him. But it sounded different now - tired, weak, anemic, like she was trying to force a shadow of her smile into her voice.

Ichigo fought the urge to run, to turn right around and go back to Soul Society, konso be damned. But he couldn't. He knew he had to answer her greeting. He had to keep his voice firmly in check and not let his feelings show through it. He was a man now, dammit. This sort of thing happened to other guys all the time.

"Hey, In- Ishida...san." He had never been able to get used to thinking of her as an Ishida, as anything other than the person he knew in high school. So he had tried to scrub all the resentment out of his voice at her new name. He thought bitterly that he'd probably failed at that, too.

Strangely enough, though, she suppressed a small, strangled giggle. He thought it sounded different than it used to. Like her voice, it was cloudy, overcast with strain. This time, though, there was something else peeking through. Genuine happiness? Hysteria?

"Not... Not anymore," she replied, a little more brightly this time. Ichigo's eyebrow shot up unbidden. What did she mean? Had they divorced? Rukia and Rangiku hadn't told him that. They had to have known he would want to know _that_ of all things. Maybe they didn't want to get his hopes up before it was finalized? There was no way they wouldn't have known.

Oddly enough, he couldn't even feel bad for his former friend in this instance. No, instead he felt his heart beat again for the first time in five years. It was hope, just a tiny spark; it was something he thought had died and would never be rekindled. But now it threatened to blaze up and engulf him.

"Not... anymore?" he echoed, his mouth too dry to do anything other than echo her. Finally, he thought he could look at her again.

Her face looked serene, more mature than she had in high school. Her eyes were sadder, staring out at the accident blankly, but were still just as lovely as he'd remembered them. The hairpins were there as well, although they didn't sparkle like they used to. As he watched her mouth stretch into a wide grin, the kind he used to see on her every day in class, he thought perhaps her mood had lightened.

"I guess I'm just really clumsy today," she said with a nervous laugh. Before Ichigo could wonder what she meant, he heard a tiny clinking sound, like the chime of metal on metal. It had been a long time since he'd heard that sound, and when he looked down to her hand, it was exactly what he feared it might be.

There, attached to her large bosom and dangling from her slender, pale fingers, were the remains of her broken chain of fate.

Ishida Orihime was dead.


	2. Chapter 2: Western Gate

**Title:** Til Death Do Us Part: Chapter Two - Western Gate

**Warnings:** het (IchiHime), ANGST, dysfunctional relationships, adult themes

**Spoilers:** This is set ten years after the series, so spoilers up to current chapters

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** I apologize for taking so long to upload a new chapter of this! I promise another chapter of "Bun in the Bakery" is going to come out right after this, too, hopefully in a day or two! Work has been hectic for the past few weeks and it's killed my will to write. Hopefully I'm over it, though! I've decided not to do this fic in order of the other ones, and to just update it between chapters of the other three, so it'll probably come faster than those. Also, please be warned that this fic will eventually deal with fairly dark themes. Not everyone reads the warnings section, and I feel this is worth reiterating so they don't come out and gobsmack anyone. But those things will become more obvious in later chapters.

* * *

**Thirty-seven minutes ago**  
_  
Ichigo looked up at the sound of his office door sliding open. He had been filing his usual paperwork - leave chits, variance reports, acquisition forms - when he was interrupted by the sound of the door and the smell of cigarette smoke. His eye twitched in annoyance; he'd lost track of the times he'd berated the only smoker he knew in Soul Society about his nasty habit._

_"Akon, what the hell did I tell you about smoking in our offices?" Ichigo growled across his desk. The third seat of Twelfth Division favored him with a cheeky grin for his trouble, not bothering to remove the noxious cancer stick._

_"Look, Kurosaki," he mumbled around the cigarette, "We really don't have time for this today."_

_"Oh, I got all the time in the world," Ichigo said with a sarcastic smirk, propping his jaw against his fist. He drummed his fingers against his desk in impatience, waiting for his rude guest to explain himself._

_"Actually, you don't," Akon corrected him, pulling a slip of paper out of his lab coat, "I have something I think you'll be interested in." Handing the slip to Ichigo, the horned scientist folded his arms across his chest and waited._

_"Coordinates?" Ichigo asked, raising an eyebrow, "What about 'em?" Akon bowed his head, scuffing his toe against the nice, polished floor in Ichigo's office._

_"It's for a konso," Akon said succinctly. Ichigo shrugged; he didn't have time to run around stamping ghost foreheads today, he had real work to do._

_"What's that got to do with me?" He asked flatly, letting the small slip of paper flutter to the desk, "You know I don't have time for konso."_

_"You'll want to make time for that one," Akon said with a knowing smirk, but when Ichigo's expression didn't change, his normal disinterested look returned. "Look, I'll be straight with you. As soon as I saw that, I brought it to you. You absolutely don't want my Captain or Vice Captain to get their hands on that soul." Now, Ichigo's eyebrows were practically flying into his hair; what could possibly be so special about this soul that would pique Kurotsuchi's interest?_

_Whatever it was, Ichigo had a bad feeling about it._

_

* * *

_

**Thirty-seven minutes later**

Ichigo realized his earlier assessment of the situation had been incorrect. He didn't have a bad feeling about it - he had a _very_ bad feeling about it. It was the same sinking feeling one got while watching a performer stick their hand into an alligator's mouth.

Standing before him was the spirit of his high school crush, who also just so happened to have married one of his best friends a good five years ago. As if this wasn't bad enough, Ichigo now realized exactly why Akon had given him this assignment instead of passing it on to his boss. Kurotsuchi had never failed to make Ichigo aware of his disdain for him, nor had he ever bothered to hide his borderline-perverse interest in Inoue Orihime and her spiritual powers.

_'Scratch that,'_ Ichigo silently rebuked himself, _'Ishida Orihime.'_

"Is something the matter, Kurosaki-kun?" The disembodied spirit asked from behind a strained smile, "You look like you just bit down on a lemon..."

"It's nothing, Ishida-san," he quickly mumbled, watching as her face took on a sadder hue.

"Inoue," she chided him firmly, "Please call me Inoue. Like... Like you used to." Ichigo stared at her in puzzlement. What was this all about? Was it just nostalgia? Why did she sound kind of sad? Well, he figured she was probably sad because she'd just died, but the name thing was still a little weird. Either way, that was her choice.

"Sure thing, Inoue," he replied softly. She favored him with a watery smile in return.

But now came the hard part. What was he to do with her, now that she was dead? Obviously she had to go to Soul Society, but what then? Eventually, Kurotsuchi would figure out she was there and come after her - she did still have those hairpins in her hair, after all. And even if he didn't, Ichigo was loathe to let her wander around Rukongai by herself; he was confident she'd be fine in the upper districts, but what if she got assigned to the 80th district? He could always call on the Shiba family, but he wasn't really sure if he wanted to subject Orihime to Kuukaku's wrath on a daily basis.

And there was also a part of him that wanted her to stay with him, too, although he'd be loathe to say that out loud. She was still another man's wife, after all, and Ichigo was keenly aware that she would probably feel awkward if he stayed too close to her.

Really, that left him with one immediate option, at least until he could check and see if she could be enrolled into the shinigami academy.

"What are you thinking about, Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime suddenly asked, shaking Ichigo out of his stupor. He realized he must have been silent for longer than he'd thought he had, for now Orihime was peering at him with a look of genuine concern.

"Huh?" He replied, shaking off his torpor, "I-It's nothing, Inoue. Look, once I do this konso on you, I need you to follow my instructions, alright?" Orihime looked quite lucid, so he continued.

"I'll be taking the senkaimon back to Soul Society, so I can't go back the same way as you. When you arrive, you'll be at a way station of sorts. They'll give you a numbered ticket that'll assign you to a district where you're supposed to live from here on out. You with me so far?"

Orihime silently nodded her understanding, indicating that it was safe for Ichigo to continue.

"When the shinigami give you that number, don't go. I want you to wait for me by the Western Gate, the one Jidanbo guards. You remember where that's at, right?"

"U-Uhn," Orihime confirmed, a puzzled look on her face, "But what if the shinigami get mad at me for not going?" Ichigo's face looked as though he'd never considered this possibility before.

"If they try to force you, you can get Jidanbo," he said thoughtfully. He paused for a beat, and then: "Or you could tell them I gave you permission, that'll shut 'em up." He gave Orihime a cocky grin for reassurance, one he felt like he hadn't worn in years. In fact, the act of smiling even made his face ache a bit.

"Alright, Kurosaki-kun." Orihime returned his smile earnestly. It wasn't the one he remembered from ten years ago, by any stretch of the imagination. It was weak and felt tired, like she was only smiling to reassure him. Well, he could certainly relate to that, so he decided not to pursue the topic.

"You ready?" he asked quietly, his tall figure leaning over the smaller woman, "I promise I'll be gentle." If Orihime noticed any double-entendre there, she didn't let on as though she did. Instead, she let her eyes drift shut as she lifted her face to him.

"I'm ready."

* * *

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

She was supposed to start all over again in Rukongai, far far away from everyone who'd ever known her. She would have a house of her own, just like Kuukaku, and maybe even have a little black cat like Yoruichi, or a rambunctious little pig like Bonnie. She would have a little garden with corn and tomatoes and watermelon in the summer, with a well on the edge of the morning glory patch. And she'd wake up every day and stretch her arms up toward the sun, free and happy, and dance barefoot on her lawn.

Well, none of that was in the picture now. Fate had seen fit to waylay her with probably the very last person she'd hoped to see. As soon as she'd laid eyes on Kurosaki Ichigo again, in those familiar black robes she remembered from so long ago, all those plans had crumbled to dust. And Orihime wasn't entirely sure if she was upset about that or not.

Sure, she knew the right thing to do would be to remove herself from the picture as soon as possible. After all, he had Rukia and all his shinigami friends now; her presence would be more of a burden than anything. She wasn't needed here, and hadn't been for many years.

Even though she knew it was the right thing to do, the sight of her old crush's face, the sound of his voice, and his scent, all beckoned her to stay. Orihime silently cursed her traitorous heart, the one that was begging her to follow his instructions and see what he wanted. She found herself unable to protest his directions, even though her heart ached. What could he possibly want her to meet back up with him for? Wasn't his job done?

Thoughts snapping back to the present, Orihime regarded the slip of paper in her hand - district 73, Kuroito. The name sounded ominous, but she was sure it wasn't that bad. She briefly considered going on into the district, but just couldn't bring herself to; Ichigo would be really hurt if she did. But could she really face what she suspected awaited her when he arrived?

"Hey, newbie!" one of the shinigami orderlies barked at her, "Stop daydreaming and get a move on! You're gonna miss your transport!" She had been afraid of this.

"I-I'm sorry!" she stammered nervously, "I'm waiting on someone. I can't go yet." The attendant didn't look too pleased by this revelation. He crossed his arms across his chest with a snort.

"Just because you got a shitty ticket doesn't mean you get to stall," the shinigami brusquely informed her, "And if you're waiting on a family member, they ain't comin' for ya." Orihime shook her head fervently. She hoped this shinigami would just leave her alone; it had been literally years since she'd last used her powers, and she wasn't at all sure how well she'd be able to defend herself if it came down to it.

"It's not that," she protested, "Kurosaki-kun told me to wait for him by the Western Gate..." The shinigami stopped for a second before bursting out into laughter and turning to get his partner's attention.

"Check it out, Hijiri!" he said, his voice a jeer, "This chick says she's waiting on Kurosaki!" The shinigami named Hijiri could barely contain his mirth.

"Seriously?" he asked somewhat gleefully, "That ice queen? Didn't our captain beat his ass back in the day?"

"I heard he made him his bitch!" the original shinigami replied with a broad grin, "Only thing that saved him was that freaky mask of his!"

That comment struck a chord within Orihime. How dare they talk about Ichigo like that? How many times had he saved Soul Society and the people in it by now? She wasn't exactly sure, but even once was impressive.

"Don't talk about Kurosaki-kun like that," she said quietly, her fists trembling at her side.

"Pffth, what're you gonna do if we do?" the first shinigami sneered at her. He had obviously failed to immediately notice the gigantic reiatsu looming behind her at the moment.

"Talk about me like what?" the voice came from behind Orihime through gritted teeth, "If I find out you assholes have given Inoue any trouble..." They immediately took the hint and snapped their jaws shut.

"We weren't giving her any trouble!" Hijiri quickly said with a nervous smile. Ichigo's nostrils flared; Orihime wondered how much he'd heard and if he was trying to intimidate them on purpose.

"Good," Ichigo said down his nose at them, "I'd hate to let Byakuya know his guys were being jerk-asses to Inoue." This seemed to have the desired effect; the two men may not have respected Ichigo, but they definitely weren't about to cross their boss.

"Y-Yes, sir!" they said in unison. Orihime blinked up at the tense look Ichigo was directing at them before he turned his scowl to her.

"C'mon, Inoue," he started, turning towards Seireitei, "We've wasted enough time on these guys." Orihime nodded and turned to follow him as he moved in his intended direction.

"What a prick," the first shinigami muttered as soon as the two were out of earshot.

"At least he's got good taste in women," the one named Hijiri commented, his voice awestruck.

Ichigo and Orihime walked towards the Western Gate in silence, the only sounds being the soft padding of Ichigo's waraji and Orihime's flats against the dry grass.

"I thought you were going to the gate," Ichigo finally said, breaking the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," Orihime apologized softly, "I wasn't fast enough. I made you wait." She was certain he was angry with her now. All he'd asked her to do was to go to the Western Gate, and she'd already screwed that up.

"Made me wait?" Ichigo asked incredulously, "You made me _worry_ is what you did! I thought something happened to you!" Orihime felt her cheeks burn with shame; even in death, she was utterly incompetent! She felt the tell-tale prickle of tears just behind her sinuses. Hadn't she cried enough for one lifetime and beyond? And now she was about to cry in front of Ichigo, of all people! After not having seen him for ten years, the first thing she was going to do was cry!

She could no longer fight the feelings of helplessness and incompetence as silent tears coursed down Orihime's cheeks. She tried not to make a sound that would alert Ichigo to her distress, but as he stopped suddenly and turned to face her, she realized he could probably feel her unstable reiatsu anyway. Even worse, the look of abject horror he adopted upon seeing her tear-stained face made her actually begin to sob.

"Inoue, what?" Ichigo stood before her, shell-shocked. His face went pale and his fingers twitched as though they wanted very badly to do something and he wouldn't let them.

"I-I'm sorry!" Orihime blurted out, bringing her hands to her face to try and hide her tears, "N-Now you're angry at me and I only j-just got here-!"

If Orihime had been able to see Ichigo's face from behind her hands, she'd have seen a look of agony. He didn't stall much longer, though; Orihime stopped sobbing when she felt something brush her cheek.

She looked up to see Ichigo using the hem of his sleeve to wipe her face clean, his face still twisted into a grimace.

"I'm not mad at you, Inoue," he intoned softly, "So stop crying, alright? It's... It's awkward." She took her hands from her face and snapped to attention, some tears still escaping the corners of her eyes.

"I-I won't do it again!" she swore, her voice still shaky and her bottom lip trembling from the effort. Ichigo sighed.

"I didn't say you couldn't cry if you needed to," Ichigo explained, "I just don't want to be the one to cause it, you know?" Orihime nodded vigorously, not trusting her voice. She couldn't remember a time someone had told her it was okay to cry.

They continued on, reaching their destination after a few more minutes of walking. Orihime watched as Jidanbo hailed Ichigo in a cheery voice. She thought back to the time she'd healed his massive arm and wondered if he remembered her at all. It seemed like it had happened in another lifetime entirely. When was the last time she'd actually healed anyone, come to think of it? She found she couldn't recall.

"And who might this lovely young lady be?" he finally addressed her from where she was standing behind Ichigo, deep in thought. As soon as she realized he was talking to her, she snapped her head up and stepped from behind Ichigo.

"O-Oh, I'm-"

But before she could finish her sentence, Jidanbo's eye grew as large as buckets as he recognized the lady in front of him.

"Goodness me!" he bellowed, dropping to his knees and bowing to the ground, "It's really you! How many years has it been? Please forgive this lowly gatekeeper for not recognizing you sooner, milady!" Orihime blushed from the attention.

"A-Ah, that's not necessary-!" she protested, waving her hands before her chest and smiling nervously.

"Jeez, Jidanbo," Ichigo sighed, cleaning one ear with his pinky, "Cut the theatrics already, you're embarrassing her!" The giant stood again, but his face had broken out into a broad grin.

"My apologies, Inoue-san," he said happily, "It's just that it's been years since I last saw you!" Orihime realized that he'd used her maiden name and not her married one; had she forgotten to send him a notification? She hadn't sent that many out, and she was dead now anyway, so it was just as well to not bother with correcting him. Besides, Uryuu usually did it for her, and he wasn't here now, either. She smiled happily up at the giant in response.

"I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch!" Orihime said sincerely, "I'll correct that from now on!" At this, Jidanbo's expression grew perplexed.

"From now on?" he asked, scratching his large head, "Aren't you just here for a visit?" Ichigo blew out a huff of air as he scuffed the dirt.

"She's dead, you boob!" Ichigo announced in exasperation, "She's staying permanently!" Now it was Orihime's turn to look puzzled.

"I am?"

Ichigo straightened up at her query, a light blush creeping across his cheeks.

"Well, as long as you want, anyway," he corrected himself. Orihime seemed to accept this with a smile.

"I'm sorry to hear about your passing," Jidanbo ventured carefully, a slightly uncomfortable look on his face. She beamed up at him in return.

"I'm not!" she chirped, realizing a second too late that what she'd just said sounded incredibly off, "What I mean is, I'm looking forward to staying here from now on, so it's totally okay!" Both Jidanbo and Ichigo looked a bit bewildered, so Orihime simply rubbed her head and favored them with a sheepish smile.

"Anyway," Ichigo continued after another few seconds of awkward silence, "We gotta get going. I promise you can come back and chat later, Inoue." Then, turning to their gigantic friend: "Go ahead and open it up, Jidanbo." The giant gave Ichigo a grave nod before grabbing the bottom of the gate and hefting it up to his shoulder.

As soon as the gate crashed down behind them, Ichigo wordlessly began walking as Orihime followed. She had to walk quickly to keep up with his long strides, peeking shyly up at him as she did so. She had more than a few questions she wanted to ask him.

"A-Ano, Kurosaki-kun?" she finally ventured, " Where are we going?" He glanced down at her and slowed his pace so they could talk.

"Back to our division's barracks," he replied as though it was the simplest thing in the world, "I can put you up there for a little while, at least until you get on your feet." Orihime gave him a puzzled look.

"On my feet?" she asked, genuinely curious, "Are you sure it's okay, though? I'm not really a shinigami..."

"Until you decide if you're gonna take the entrance exam to the Academy, I guess," he said thoughtfully, scratching the tiny stubble on his chin.

_'When did he get stubble?'_ Orihime thought, oddly intrigued by it.

"Oh," she responded dully, hardly registering that he hadn't answered her other question. As they walked, though, another question presented itself to her, one that had truthfully gnawed at her for years.

"Umm," she began hesitantly, not quite sure how to phrase it, "How is Kuchiki-san?" Her voice was laced with trepidation; she hoped Ichigo didn't notice.

"You mean Rukia, right?" he asked, his tone suggesting he'd felt the need to make sure she wasn't asking after Byakuya for some odd reason. Orihime nodded, worrying her bottom lip as she waited on his answer

"She's alright, I guess," he said with a shrug, "Same as always, really. She usually either hangs out in her division or with Renji or her brother." Orihime gave him a puzzled look; maybe he meant that was what she did when they weren't together?

"You mean when she's not with you?" Orihime ventured. Her voice was light and innocently inquisitive, but she was actually speaking around a lump in her throat. Worse, she could feel those tears prickling her eyesockets again. Suddenly, she didn't want to be here anymore. Maybe she should've listened to those two shinigami after all.

"Eh?" Ichigo answered, confusion tinting his voice, "I actually don't see her that much anymore. We're both too busy with our divisions to hang out like teenagers, really." Orihime blinked away her building tears, feeling that old, seizing pain in her chest abate somewhat. Who knew even spirits could have heartache like that?

"If you wanted to see her, I could call her over later?" Ichigo ventured, his eyebrow quirking as he looked down at her. Orihime hoped he hadn't noticed her momentary, fading distress.

"U-Uhn!" she replied with only a bit of forced happiness this time, "I haven't seen her in a long time!" _'A really long time,'_ Orihime finished mentally. She'd fallen out of contact with most of her shinigami friends shortly after the wedding. What was the point of letting them see her face anymore? They'd only worry.

"Well, we're here," Ichigo said, breaking the awkward, gloomy silence as he came to a stop in front the divisional barracks. Orihime looked up from where the dust swirled around Ichigo's waraji to see the diamond above the entrance-way to the long, low building. The large, black kanji for the number five looked back down at her.

"Fifth Division?" Orihime asked, "Isn't that the division Aizen..." Ichigo snorted, tilting his chin away from Orihime in disdain.

"We don't say that name around here," he informed her brusquely, "It upsets Momo." Orihime blinked, recalling vaguely the frail girl she'd last seen almost ten years ago. Maybe, because they lived longer, hurts took longer for shinigami to heal?

_'Maybe that's not exclusive to shinigami,' _she thought ruefully.

"C'mon," Ichigo said, motioning up the steps with his head, "Come inside. I'll show you around."

He led her through the dining hall and the kitchens, showing her where their meals were prepared. He introduced her to the cooks, three stout old ladies who took an immediate liking to Orihime and did their best to make her feel comfortable. Then he led her through the laundry room and showed her the giant washtubs they used. Even though Ichigo admitted they were out of date to human world standards, Orihime thought they were quaint and charming. She even climbed inside one to see just how big it was.

They went through the training grounds, some of the barracks (she was to get her own room in the female wing after he finished showing her around), the linen issue, and finally the divisional offices.

"This is where Momo and our third seat, Hanbei, work," he said, pointing to their desks, each aligned parallel with a wall of the long room. There were other desks, bookshelves, filing cabinets, even a coffee maker; all of the trappings of a traditional office, really, only slightly more antiquated. Everything but the coffee maker seemed to have come directly from the Taisho era. As for the little brewing contraption, Orihime thought it looked strikingly out of place in the old-fashioned office. She reasoned that it couldn't have been more than a year old at most.

Before she could comment on it, Ichigo began walking towards a sliding door at the northern end of the room.

"And back here is the Captain's Office," he said, sliding the door open and walking inside. Orihime followed him, jaw agape.

"K-Kurosaki-kun!" she flailed, sliding the door shut behind them, "You... You can't just walk in like that, can you?" Ichigo threw her a puzzled look.

"Why not?" he asked, rummaging through one of the drawers for something. Orihime wondered if it was possible for her to die again, this time of a heart attack. If his captain caught them in here, they'd be in so much trouble!

"Won't... Won't your captain be mad?" she asked, her voice taking on a nervous timbre, "You just walked right in and started going through their things!" Ichigo finally found the white cloth he was looking for and pulled it out of the drawer. As he pushed his arms through the cut-off sleeve holes, Orihime could clearly see the kanji for 'five' silk-screened on the back, with the kanji for 'one' hand-painted above it. It spelled "Ichigo", with numbers.

"Dummy," he chided her warmly, turning to face her from behind the large, wooden desk, "The captain doesn't care because I _am_ the captain."


	3. Chapter 3: Old Friends and New Offices

**Title:** Til Death Do Us Part: Chapter Three- Old Friends and New Offices  
**Warnings:** het (IchiHime), ANGST, dysfunctional relationships, adult themes  
**Spoilers:** This is set ten years after the series, so spoilers up to current chapters  
**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

* * *

Orihime stood in awe as Ichigo slipped on his Captain's haori.

"You're... You're the Captain? Of Fifth Division?" she asked hesitantly, the words sounding odd on her tongue. Ichigo cocked an eyebrow and folded his arms, looking unimpressed with her question.

"Don't sound so surprised or anything," he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. Orihime favored him with a wobbly smile.

"Oh, it's... it's not that I'm surprised," she stammered, her little hands flailing in front of her, "Well, I mean, I _am_, but what I mean is that I didn't realize it before!"

Even though she was smiling and chuckling nervously, Orihime felt her heart twist in her chest. Ichigo was a Captain. It felt once again like he was leaving her behind to be a part of a world she could never join. In ten years, he had become a Captain of the Gotei 13; what had she done? Dropped out of college and cooked progressively more boring food? She once again felt wholly inadequate to even be near him.

"No, it's alright," Ichigo said with a sigh, "This position is basically compensation anyway." Now it was Orihime's turn to give him a curious look.

"Compensation? For what?" Ichigo looked at her as though she'd gone mad.

"What do you mean, 'for what'?" Ichigo asked with a hint of irritation, before taking a breath and looking down, "Right, you... You don't know. Sorry. I forgot." Orihime looked thoroughly ashamed to have upset him, but he bravely soldiered on anyway.

"They sequestered me here after everything was over," Ichigo muttered bitterly, "Giving me the Captainship was just a political move to make it look like my service to Soul Society was valued and to keep me out of trouble. I guess Yama-jii thought paperwork would make me settle down." Orihime's eyes and mouth grew progressively wider as he spoke.

"Then you... didn't run away to Soul Society on your own?" Orihime asked, her voice holding a wavering, tremulous pitch.

"Tch, no," Ichigo scoffed, "My home was back in Karakura. My whole life was there. That was the place I belonged. But my body's been dead a while now. I can't go back."

"Then you..." she began again, her voice shaking, "You didn't run away to be with Kuchiki-san?" Ichigo looked as though he might fall over.

"With... that _midget?_" he bellowed, unable to contain the incredulity in his voice, "Why would I-? Why would you-? What on earth would give you that idea!"

Orihime, meanwhile, was riding a turbulent roller-coaster of emotions while Ichigo sputtered. She knew she should be happy she was mistaken all this time. When she had first thought Ichigo and her shinigami friend had run away together ten years prior, she had forced herself to smile and bear it and pretend to be happy for them. But the truth was, she'd felt worthless and inferior, completely unworthy of love. She had also felt betrayed and ignored. She tried not to blame Rukia - perhaps she hadn't known that Orihime had been nursing a deep crush on Ichigo for the better part of a year - but it still hurt even to see the black-haired shinigami whenever she came to Earth. And eventually, she just stopped coming around at all. Just like everyone else.

So by rights, she should have felt relieved, even ecstatic, that she had been mistaken all this time. And it was true that some part of her did. Ichigo had never wanted to come to Soul Society and Rukia had never betrayed her; that alone was cause for joy. But the larger part of her felt utterly stupid and pathetic. If she had just believed in Ichigo and Rukia, her life wouldn't have been as worthless and painful as it had been for the past ten years. All this pain could have been avoided and things would never have gotten to this point.

"I-Inoue, what?" Ichigo said, his sputtered ranting having been replaced with awkward concern, "D-Don't cry! Please! I-I just don't feel that way about Rukia, it's nothing to get upset over!"

Well, that certainly didn't have the effect Ichigo clearly intended it to have. Instead, it caused Orihime to visibly sob. And that only led to more heavily awkward attempts to console her.

"Captain? What's going on? I heard cryi-"

The sentence hung in mid-air as the black-haired girl with her hair tied into a bun stepped inside the office, leaving the door wide open behind her. "I-Isn't that-?"

"Yeah," Ichigo said quietly, removing his haori, "Shut the door behind you, Momo." He draped the white coat over the crying woman's shoulders as she sniffled, trying to erase the evidence of her embarrassing outburst. Even though Orihime's nose was now stopped up from crying, she could still smell Ichigo on his coat. Before she knew it, though, the shorter woman was standing right in front of her with a gentle smile on her face.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Orihime-san," she said with a small bow, "I'm Hinamori Momo, Kurosaki-taichou's lieutenant. Would you like me to make you some hot tea?" Orihime was so distracted by the girl's cheerful nature and straight-forward speech that she forgot to cry.

"U-Uhn!" she said with a nod, earning her another smile.

"Alright, I'll be right back," Momo said happily, turning back toward the door.

"Don't use the coffee maker this time," Ichigo groused, "It's only for coffee, it doesn't make tea!" Orihime watched in fascination as the girl turned to stick her tongue out at her Captain.

"I'm just going to use it to heat the water, Captain!" she fussed, "It's easier than boiling a tea kettle!" Ichigo crossed his arms and huffed as the door slid shut.

"I swear," he grumbled, "Last time she made tea, my coffee tasted like matcha for a week afterward." Orihime looked up at him in amusement, most of her earlier distress gone.

"She seems very nice," she informed him. Ichigo sighed and fluffed his hair with his hand.

"She is," he agreed wearily, "Momo's like a mom to us all, really. She just gets fussy at me when I don't do things her way. Reminds me of Yuzu, really." Orihime allowed a small smile to cross her face; she hadn't seen Ichigo's sisters since the wedding.

"I can see the resemblance," she said quietly, watching curiously as Ichigo started to pull a chair around from the side of the room for her. "What are you doing?"

"Sit," he commanded, bumping the back of her knees with the chair and forcing her to comply, "If she comes back and you're still standing, she'll nag my ear off."

"I heard that!" Momo's faint voice came from the other side of the wall, causing Ichigo to flinch. Orihime was simply dumbfounded. They seemed so much like a cute little family that she couldn't help but giggle.

"Feeling better?" Ichigo asked, drawing Orihime's attention. He was kneeling before her and smiling now, one of those rare, gentle smiles that she loved so dearly when they were teenagers. She returned his expression with a nod as she drew his haori closer around her.

"Yes," she answered softly, "Thank you. I-I'm sorry I keep crying everywhere, it's just that... today has been kind of stressful..." Ichigo gave her a dumbfounded look.

"You just died," he said matter-of-factly, "Most people find that stressful." Orihime couldn't help but bring a hand to her mouth as a choked giggle escaped her. She had forgotten how easily Ichigo could distract her from her problems.

While they waited, Orihime found her hand held firmly between Ichigo's warm, large ones. He didn't even ask if he could, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He seemed to be studying her little hand, looking at the thin, pale skin and the blue veins underneath. She guessed that even though she was now dead, her heart still beat just like it ever did.

Ichigo didn't look up at her, though. He seemed completely absorbed in the hands in her lap. His head was even hung low, shading his eyes from sight. That was okay by her; Orihime didn't particularly feel like lifting her head anyway. The strangest part, though, was that the silence seemed perfectly comfortable.

But the prolonged silence also made Orihime realize something. For the first time, Orihime really realized that Ichigo was hurting as much as she was, maybe even more. He'd never asked to be stuck here. He didn't even really want to be a Captain. Who would want all that responsibility right out of high school? For all intents and purposes, Soul Society had killed him at sixteen. And she was so caught up in her own problems that she failed to notice it immediately. A sudden wave of guilt overtook her for her momentary blindness.

The silence was broken by Momo returning with a tray of tea and snacks. Ichigo immediately let go of Orihime's hand, snapping his arms to his side and wobbling awkwardly. She noted the dusting of pink across his nose and idly wondered if Momo would tease him if she caught him holding her hand.

"Here we go!" the black-haired girl chirped happily, setting a cup down in front of Orihime on the desk, "I brought some shortbread cookies and green tea mochi, too. Do you want to try some?"

"A-Ah, thank you," Orihime said softly, reaching for the tea, "Yes, please." As she brought the cup to her lips, Ichigo stood and walked to the other side of the desk.

"Here, set it on this when you're done," Ichigo said, placing a sheaf of paperwork on the desk where Orihime's tea had just sat.

"Captain!" Momo scolded, putting her little fists on her hips, "Don't just use your paperwork as a coaster!" Ichigo snorted and folded his arms.

"It's not like First Division cares," he grunted, sitting across from Orihime and leaning back in his chair. Orihime watched the bickering duo in amusement. "Besides, this desk is brand new. I don't want rings on it."

Momo looked decidedly unimpressed by Ichigo's reasoning, and a second later she was out the door, hands on hips. Ichigo stood and leaned over his desk, annoyed.

"O-Oi, get back here!" he barked, "I need you to do something for me!" Momo returned a few seconds later, clicking a coaster down on Ichigo's desk in front of Orihime.

"There," she said firmly, "Now, what did you need?"

* * *

"I-Is this really okay?" Orihime asked trepidatiously.

"At least he's using his own account this time instead of the Divisional fund," Momo answered, ducking her head with a small laugh.

"Kurosaki-kun is using his own money for this?" Orihime returned in fascination. Momo shrugged.

"I guess he figures this is personal and not Division related," she said, looking in the shop windows as they passed by.

Orihime followed Momo's eyes to the shop mannequins, dressed in outrageously expensive kimono. She didn't think she'd ever owned anything that expensive in her life, nor ever would.

"M-Momo-san," Orihime whispered, ignoring the looks her living world clothing was drawing from the passing shinigami and tugging on Momo's sleeve, "Are you sure we're in the right area of town? Everything here looks so... expensive."

"It is a bit pricey, isn't it?" she answered, looking again at the written address in her hand - yep, definitely First Ward - and then looking back up at the glamorous kimono in the window before them. "I'm sure this is the place, though. He must be going all out..."

Orihime blushed at that thought. She didn't understand why Ichigo hadn't just given her a shihakushou like the ones the shinigami wore; that was sufficient to not get her stared at, right? Instead, he'd sent Momo shopping with her in one of the most expensive districts in Seireitei. Orihime felt so inadequate next to the fashionably dressed shinigami women walking up and down the street that she simply wanted to hide.

"Ori... Orihime-chan?"

Orihime's head swung up to see who'd called her just in time for her face to be buried in the exposed flesh visible between the taller woman's open collar.

"Orihime-chan, it's really you!" Rangiku said, smooshing Orihime to her breasts, "How long has it been? Four years? Five? Oh my goodness, how are you? Let me look at you!" As she drew back to get a good look at the smaller red-haired woman, Momo shook her head.

"She's dead, Rangiku," Momo said evenly, "She just got here." Rangiku's face registered her mild surprise immediately.

"Where's your Captain?" Rangiku asked, perhaps a bit too quickly, "He'd definitely want to see her!" Orihime gave Rangiku a puzzled look, but she was more concerned with her conversation with Momo; she still hadn't released Orihime all the way, though.

"He sent us here to find her some clothes," Momo informed her, showing her Ichigo's silver Captain's charge card. Rangiku immediately snatched it out of Momo's grasp to examine it greedily.

"You mean Stingy-taichou is actually springing for something for once?" she asked, fascinated, "He doesn't even take me out drinking more than once a month!" Momo cast a quick look in Orihime's direction before snatching the card back from Rangiku.

"Don't talk about that right now," Momo said shortly, causing Orihime to cock her head at her tone. Rangiku simply smiled and began to lead Orihime down the street by her hand.

"Alright, alright," she placated the smaller woman, "Ne, Orihime-chan, let's go in here! They cater to bigger girls like us!"

As Orihime was pulled along behind the blonde, she caught a glimpse of Momo's worried expression while she followed. Was she really that worried about what Rangiku would buy?

* * *

"What the hell is this?"

Orihime flinched and looked down at the stack of boxes in her hands. She couldn't meet Ichigo's angry gaze. It was alright, though; Rangiku was more than happy to meet it for her.

"I thought we were supposed to buy her some clothes!" Rangiku happily supplied, oblivious to Ichigo's ire, "You _obviously_ wanted her to look nice if you sent her to the First Ward to shop!"

"I wanted her to look nice," Ichigo countered, "I didn't want you to _drain my bank account to do it!_"

Momo had abandoned them as soon as they'd entered the office. She was fully aware of the kind of chewing out Rangiku was in for. Still, Orihime wished she hadn't left. She was shaking like a leaf; she felt awful about spending too much of Ichigo's money and hadn't wanted to face Ichigo's wrath without her.

"Honestly," Rangiku sighed, "Don't be so cheap! Orihime-chan is going to be the best-dressed girl in Seireitei!"

"I'm sorry!" Orihime blurted out, bowing over the packages, "I-I'll return everything!"

This served to stop the argument dead in its tracks. Both Ichigo and Rangiku turned to look at Orihime, who still hadn't lifted her head from her bow. If she had looked up, she'd have seen that both of them looked quite surprised.

"No, you... you don't have to return anything, Inoue," Ichigo finally said, stunned, "It's not your fault." His eyebrows rose as he watched her peek timidly up at him from beneath her thick lashes. Slowly, she unfurled from her deep bow.

"Now look what you did, Ichigo!" Rangiku scolded him, "You scared her!" Ichigo slammed his hands on his desk, his fury reignited.

"Who the hell's fault is that!" he yelled, shaking the desk with his anger. Then, after a few calming breaths, he turned back to Orihime to address her again. "Get Momo to help you take your things to your room and get dressed. I want to see if they fit you."

Orihime bowed again, mumbling another thank you, before quickly excusing herself.

"Stop yelling in front of her," Rangiku hissed as soon as Orihime shut the door behind her.

"Why do you think I sent her out of the room?" Ichigo huffed, flopping into his chair and cradling his head in his hands. "She keeps crying over nothing and I don't know what to do! I wouldn't even know what to do if she was her normal, cheerful self!"

"What do you _mean_, you don't know what to do?" Rangiku asked harshly, leaning over Ichigo's desk and getting her feminine assets a bit too close to his face for his liking. "You still like her, don't you? Be a man and make a move!"

"She's married, Rangiku," he replied dully, looking up at her through spread fingers, "She's even married to a friend. That's wrong. It's cheating." Rangiku huffed and gave him an incredulous look as she put her hands on her hips.

"First of all," she said, "She's dead. Most people generally consider that the end of their marriage. Secondly, it's pretty obvious that Quincy didn't make her happy." Ichigo's brows knitted at that remark.

"Their marriage is none of my business," Ichigo replied shortly. He didn't even want to think about his two friends' marriage, much less the fact that he had fantasized about his friend's wife. Repeatedly.

"If you like her and she's here, then it's your business," Rangiku said, irritation evident in her voice, "Besides, you obviously only sent her to the First Ward to shop because you wanted to see her dressed up." Rangiku stood back and crossed her arms, satisfied with her conclusion. Ichigo, on the other hand, flushed and sputtered, completely unsettled by her keen observation.

"I sent her there because I thought it'd make her happy!" he replied shakily, "Girls like shopping in expensive stores, right?" This did nothing to erase the smug look on Rangiku's face.

"Yet you let me spend everything on your card on her and won't even ask her to return anything," Rangiku nodded to herself, satisfied with her own logic, "If a man actually spent several hundred thousand kan on me at once, even I might be tempted to settle down!"

At the mention of all the money she'd spent, Ichigo went through several different colors, cycling through pale white to peach, to pink, to sunburnt, before finally settling on bright, cherry red.

"That's... that's like six months' salary!" Ichigo practically squawked, nearly hyperventilating as he stood. Rangiku looked unfazed.

"It's not like you ever actually spend anything, you cheapskate," she scolded, "Besides, if you want to win Orihime-chan back, you should be prepared to show her a good time."

"She's not greedy like _some_ women I could mention," Ichigo spat, leaning over his desk, "Besides, who said I'm trying to win her over? I already told you, she's marri-"

"Right, right," Rangiku dismissed his protests with a wave of her hand, "Get back to me when you man up and grow a pair, Ichigo." And with that, she turned to leave a flabbergasted Ichigo to steam behind his desk.

"It's Kurosaki-_taichou_ to you, dammit," he yelled before continuing, "And if I see you borrowing so much as an obiage from her, I'll have Toushirou write you up!" That stopped Rangiku in her tracks. She turned back to look at him, horror stricken.

"You wouldn't dare!" she cried, "Borrowing clothes is a female tradition!" Ichigo allowed an evil smirk to stretch across his face.

"Oh, I dare alright," he said, happy that he'd figured out some of Rangiku's motivation from her little shopping spree, "Now get out of here before I tell him what you did anyway."

Rangiku pouted before heading out the door, nearly running into Orihime and Momo on the way out.

"So cruel!" she cried before turning to Orihime, "Orihime-chan, maybe you can redeem this awful man! The Gotei 13 would owe you a debt of gratitude!" Rangiku tossed a pleased smirk over her shoulder as she slipped out, happy with the sputtering she'd induced in Ichigo. Orihime just blushed and looked at her toes.

But as soon as Ichigo took stock of Orihime's appearance, all sputtering stopped. Momo had helped her into a pale yellow yukata decorated with pink flowers, an informal powder blue obi cinching the outfit closed around her waist. She was even wearing a cute little kanzashi on one side of her hair. The cheerful pattern and light colors, combined with the loose cascade of hair falling over her shoulder, made her look younger than she should have, reminding Ichigo intensely of their high school days. More than that, he realized almost immediately that it was flashier than what a married woman should be wearing.

Ichigo silently cursed Rangiku. She must have picked this yukata out on purpose, knowing it would make Orihime look young, pretty, and available. That meddling woman was going to be the death of him; he already felt light-headed and like his face was on fire.

"This was the simplest thing we got," Momo said with a touch of regret, "I'm not exactly sure if it's something she'd want to wear every day, though..."

"I-It's fine," Ichigo said, his mouth stuffed with cotton, "It's pretty flashy, but... it... looks good on you, Inoue." Ichigo mentally kicked himself as she peeked up at him shyly.

"Th-Thank you, Kurosaki-kun."

Part of Ichigo knew he could get used to Orihime walking around his barracks dressed like that. The other, more rational part of him, however, knew that he was liable to die prematurely of simple unresolved sexual tension.


	4. Chapter 4: In Debt

**Title:** Til Death Do Us Part: Chapter Four - In Debt  
**Warnings:** het (IchiHime), ANGST, dysfunctional relationships, adult themes  
**Spoilers:** This is set ten years after the series, so spoilers up to current chapters  
**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Notes:** I'm slowly but surely getting back to updating the rest of my multi-chaptered fics! The Devil's Plaything is next, so please be patient with me. It should be done in a week or a week and a half, knock on wood! Thanks for your patience, everyone!

* * *

The next few days passed slowly and painfully for Ichigo. The somewhat peaceful existence he'd carved out for himself among Fifth Division was being turned upside down, and the culprit was none other than Orihime herself.

It wasn't that she meant to be disruptive, or that she was causing trouble. On the contrary, she was quite pleasant in everything she did. And that only served to drive Ichigo further mad.

He'd had to personally see to getting her a few yukata to wear that were less flashy than what Rangiku had picked out for her. The act of figuring out her size with the shop girl alone was enough to almost make Ichigo's blood flow backward. But he'd managed to do it, earning a grateful smile from Orihime herself for his efforts. At least now she could walk around without looking like some kind of socialite, or worse, a loaded noble's wife.

Worse than that, though, he'd had to go into debt to get her those plain yukata. The irony didn't escape him; he'd gone broke buying the most extravagant clothing Seireitei had to offer, but then had to borrow money for plain clothes. The worst part, though, was who he'd had to borrow the money from.

"Since when do you need money, Ichigo?" Rukia had asked the morning he'd visited her, "I thought you always saved your salary?" Ichigo rubbed the short hair at the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I _do_," he confirmed grumpily, "But a certain someone decided to spend every kan I had when she got ahold of my card." Rukia looked at him curiously.

"You let Matsumoto have your card?" she asked skeptically, "Were you drunk again?" Ichigo flushed brightly.

"No!" he protested, "She stopped Momo while she was on an errand for me!" Rukia raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"To buy women's clothing?" At this, Ichigo realized he'd been stalling. What for? Was it the weird way Orihime had kept asking him about Rukia? Or maybe he just didn't want to deal with the ribbing Rukia would surely give him.

"Inoue needed clothes," he muttered, his cheeks pinking up, "And Rangiku bought her the most expensive things she could find, so now I'm broke." Rukia's face lit up.

"Orihime is here?" she asked, clearly eager to see her old friend, "Why didn't you say so? Wait... _Inoue?_ Did she divorce Ishida?" Ichigo sighed. Leave it to Rukia to miss the obvious.

"She's _dead_, Rukia," he said flatly, "I thought you saw her whenever you went to the human world? Wouldn't you know if she'd gotten divorced?" Rukia simply looked puzzled.

"I haven't seen her since she got married, Ichigo," she said, shaking her head, "Every time I tried to meet with her, she was busy. Eventually, I guess we just fell out of touch." This surprised Ichigo, although he tried not to let it show.

"Anyway, she wants to be called Inoue now, and it's easier for me to remember anyway," Ichigo pressed forward to hide his embarrassment, "But she's here now, and she needs clothes that don't look like she's going to a state function. Can I please borrow a couple thousand kan? You know I'm good for it."

"May I come over and see her?" Ichigo snorted.

"You're a Vice Captain," he shrugged, "You can go wherever you want. But yes, you can come see her. I think she'd like that." He folded his arms over his chest, clearly uncomfortable. What did Rukia think he was - Orihime's jailer? She distracted him from his indigence by fishing out her card.

"What do you say?" she asked expectantly.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed at her as he ground out a "please" between gritted teeth.

"_Please...?_" Oh, for the love of all that was holy. She was really pushing it now.

"Please, _Kuchiki-fukutaichou,_" he grumbled darkly, snatching the card away from her. Rukia smirked triumphantly at him.

"Alright," she finally agreed, "I'll be over to see her shortly. Don't worry about paying me back - consider it a present for Orihime."

As if that hadn't been mortifying enough, the shopping was even worse. Being a Captain had its disadvantages, namely that everyone in Seireitei knew his face and name. Naturally, the shop girl was curious who the clothes were for, and if the long looks he got were any indication, so was everyone else around him. He cut off any weird speculation by loudly informing her that the clothes were for his sister.

Still, he was fairly sure he saw one of the Bulletin's photographers out of the corner of his eye when he was leaving the shop. He would have to have a word with Hisagi about that next time he turned his column in for the newspaper.

All of that wasn't even touching on the process of trying to figure out Orihime's proper size in front of the shop girl. The less said about _that_ embarrassment, the better.

When he returned from shopping, he was greeted by the sounds of cheery girl talk coming from the general direction of his offices, where he assumed Rukia and Orihime were catching up with each other. After his little shopping trip, he wanted no part of whatever humiliation Rukia might have had planned for him, and wisely steered clear until she was ready to go. On her way out, he returned her card.

"Is that all you got?" she asked upon examining his purchases against his wishes, "They're rather plain, although I suppose the craftsmanship isn't bad." Ichigo just sighed.

"She'll look fine in them," he said, nearing his wit's end, "That's the important part. She doesn't need to look like a movie star." Of course, he thought Orihime would look good in a potato sack, but he prudently left that thought unspoken.

Orihime herself was thrilled with the new clothes (after a short scolding for spending yet more money on her, of course). Ichigo knew her well enough to know that she didn't even remotely share Rangiku's taste in clothing and that her own tastes ran more towards the practical and plain than the extravagant. Still, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy seeing her dressed up.

The clothes aside, there were other ways her presence was disruptive. She insisted upon earning her keep, her idea of which tended to unintentionally insert her into nearly everything Ichigo did. She decided to help with the laundry, which resulted in her walking in on him half-dressed one morning. She helped the cooks with breakfast, which was actually blessedly normal and oddly free from any strange ingredients. She tidied his office, which resulted in a scolding from Momo for letting it get dirty in the first place. She had even taken his complaint about Momo's use of the coffeemaker to heart and started making him coffee in the mornings. Everywhere he looked, she was there, busying herself.

Worse still, his division had taken notice of her. He was well aware that there were more than a few whispers about what Orihime was doing in their barracks; several of his troops even remembered her as one of the ryoka from a decade ago that had invaded Soul Society with him. He knew they'd already drawn their own conclusions as to why she was there, and he was sure he didn't want to hear any of them.

Even so, there was no animosity towards her from any of his division. Or if there had been, they were being very careful to keep it out of Ichigo's presence. To the contrary, everyone seemed to love her. Perhaps a bit too much, in Ichigo's opinion, as he'd already caught too many of his men openly staring at her breasts or her backside when she wasn't paying attention. Those men had mysteriously wound up with latrine duty for the following week, with no small bit of devilish glee on Ichigo's part.

To try and discourage some of the ogling, Ichigo had finally snapped and told a few of them that she was married. In hindsight, it really hadn't had quite the effect he'd hoped for. Instead of giving Orihime some space, it doubled the questions about her; specifically, Ichigo's division wanted to know what their captain's relationship with this married woman was.

Ichigo was simply forcibly reminded of being in high school again. Some of the men in his division were worse gossips than teenaged girls.

Either way, Ichigo hadn't had a moment's peace since she died.

* * *

Orihime hadn't allowed herself a moment's rest since she died. Upon arriving in Fifth Division, she had been determined to repay Ichigo's kindness for keeping her and spending his money on her. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden on anyone anymore, so she'd immediately gone into overdrive trying to straighten his offices.

Even though the Gotei 13 was a military organization, the barracks seemed too cluttered and disorganized for her tastes. Not only that, but they were too drab and sparsely decorated, too. After six years of not being able to dictate how her living space looked, Orihime had immediately seized the opportunity to decorate her new room with any little thing she could scavenge. It had quickly been splashed with color from cut flowers she'd gathered growing wild on the division's grounds, pieces of the kimono Rangiku had bought with her, a high-quality lacquered fan she had been pressed to buy, ribbons, particularly pretty rocks, and a couple stuffed animals Momo had brought her.

This influence quickly spread beyond her room and into the barracks at large. Ichigo's office was the first casualty; it was cleaned from top to bottom, decorated with candy dishes in various places, and made to smell of citrus and pine. Next came the mess hall, which suddenly found itself furnished with fresh centerpieces and napkins folded into the shapes of little bunnies. Then she went further out onto the grounds, and started cultivating a little flower garden of her own. Slowly but surely, Orihime was making herself at home.

The Fifth Division troops were fairly happy with the changes. According to them, their captain was usually a sullen, grumpy man with a foul mouth and an even fouler temper. They were mostly loyal to him anyway, as he did go to bat for them and try to make their jobs as easy as possible. But they all had a healthy respect for his temper nonetheless.

To them, the sudden change in their captain's demeanor, as well as the change in the general atmosphere of the division, was confusing but welcome. A majority of them remembered Aizen's stint as their captain and his affable nature fondly; the other Captains had never let his betrayal become public knowledge, nor the circumstances of his death, so to the rank and file his memory was left untarnished. And it was quite easy for them to tell that Ichigo's heart wasn't really in his work. So to see him slowly lightening up and even occasionally smiling was a bit of a shock to the division, to say the least.

The cause of his unconscious change in demeanor was also readily apparent. In the week since she'd arrived, the division had slowly taken notice of Orihime until she'd found herself in the unwitting role of something of a minor celebrity. To her, it just seemed as if they hardly ever got guests and were just grateful for something out of the ordinary. She didn't understand why all their attention agitated Ichigo so.

"I see morale has certainly improved around here," Rukia commented over coffee when she visited Orihime for the first time at the end of the week. Orihime smiled shyly behind her coffee cup.

"Is it really that different?" she asked sheepishly. The smaller, black-haired woman nodded as she peered out of the Captain's office at the activity outside, her round, violet eyes surveying the suddenly cheerful nature of the division.

"They must like you," she commented with a smile, "Or at least they like that you've been distracting Ichigo." Orihime's eyebrows pursed at this comment.

"Do they not like him?" she asked, suddenly concerned. On top of everything else he'd been through, she didn't want to hear that his division didn't get along with him. Rukia simply chuckled.

"It's not that," she said warmly, "It's just that he's gruff and harsh sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. They're all quite fond of each other, in an odd way." Orihime cocked her head to the side, trying to understand their relationship.

"Like a love/hate relationship?" she asked. Rukia smiled.

"Something like that."

In the course of the conversation, Orihime came to find out that Rukia had been promoted to Vice Captain of the Thirteenth Division since she'd last seen her. She loved her job immensely, and was quite proud to be wearing the same arm band that her mentor, Shiba Kaien, had also worn. As she listened, Orihime realized that the atmosphere in Thirteenth Division sounded different than the one in Fifth, largely owing to the kindly personality of their captain. It seemed like a division where everyone strove to be friends with one another.

This also had the undesired effect of making Orihime feel quite silly for thinking Rukia had been interested in Ichigo before she got here. According to Rukia, the red-headed captain was so stand-offish and ill-tempered that even his good looks did little to convince the women of Seireitei to give him a second glance. Of course he still had a few fans - all of the Captains did - but his attitude did little to endear him to those around him.

This naturally led to the subject of their long separation, which Orihime was even less eager to delve into. Even though she waved it off breezily by saying she had simply been too busy helping Uryuu with his schoolwork for med school to see anybody, the truth was that she hadn't wanted Rukia, or any of her other friends, to see her unhappy. She was much more content to talk to them over the phone, where her cheerful front was easier to maintain. And eventually, they just stopped calling all together.

The urge to push Rukia away had been the strongest, though. The last time she'd seen her had been at her wedding. She remembered thinking her face would crack with the strain of having to smile that much. It wasn't that she hated Rukia or anything like that. No, she simply felt her heart crack every time she looked at her and thought how happy she and Ichigo must have been together in Soul Society.

What she had failed to notice then, and their conversation now had made subtly clear, was the presence in Rukia's life of a certain other red-headed man. Orihime had always simply assumed that Renji had shown up to her wedding for Uryuu's sake, but now she realized that wasn't necessarily true. He'd likely actually gone to escort Rukia.

She came to realize that the two childhood friends spent most of their free time together now. Being her older brother's Vice Captain gave Renji a good excuse to hang around their family's estate, and Rukia being a Vice Captain gave her a good excuse to talk to him under the guise of professional interest.

Even stranger was that Orihime realized the two weren't actually even officially dating. Oh, there was definitely interest there - she could tell by the slight blush Rukia had whenever she spoke of him and the tiniest bit of hesitation she gave to some of her words. But neither of them seemed to have made any kind of move yet. She vaguely wondered why.

As nice as it was to reconnect with Rukia, eventually she had to go. Orihime was somewhat grateful for her departure; she still felt incredibly guilty for misjudging her for all those years, and was far too ashamed to admit to it. The visit had been fun, but tiring. She sighed with a blush, also grateful that Rukia had managed to waylay Ichigo on the way in the door to give her a free moment to collect herself.

As soon as she emerged from his office, she was confronted with the man himself, red-faced and silent and holding an arm full of bags and boxes. They looked slightly disheveled, as though someone had been rummaging through them, but Orihime didn't pay much mind to that.

"What are those?" she asked curiously. Ichigo looked off to the side, unable to meet her eyes.

"Err," he stammered, "More... more clothes." Orihime's eyebrows pursed.

"Kurosaki-kun!" she scolded him, "Didn't you already spend all of your money on clothes for me? It's too much! You should take them back!" Ichigo looked taken aback for a moment before fixing her with a determined expression.

"You need something to wear that doesn't make you look like you fell off of a runway," he said firmly, "Besides, you're going to ruin those fancy clothes if you keep cleaning in them." Orihime felt her cheeks pink up at his admonition.

"But... But where did you get the money?" she asked hesitantly, still unsure if she should accept his generosity. Ichigo refused to meet her eyes again.

"Rukia... said it was a present from her," he mumbled, "And I picked them out." Orihime's concerned expression melted into one of humble gratitude. After she had turned her back on Rukia's friendship all those years ago, she had never turned her back on her after all. Her smile wavered as a few tears found their way through.

"Th-Thank you, Kurosaki-kun," she sniffled, smiling broadly through her tears, "I'm grateful. To you, and to Rukia-chan." Ichigo simply froze at her tears, clearly confused as to what to do.

"O-Oi, don't cry!" he said, suppressing the urge to flail his arms, "Here, try these on to make sure I got the right size." Orihime blinked to clear her eyes, surveying the packages. She shyly opened the one on top and peered inside.

"Oh," she breathed, "These are so much better! Thank you, Kurosaki-kun!" She repressed the urge to hug him; the fancy kimonos Rangiku had bought her were certainly pretty, but they were also elaborate and fairly uncomfortable.

Ichigo slowly cracked a small smile in return. There was a warmth in this smile that Orihime recognized from when they were alive. It made her heart skip a beat.

He loaded her arms down with the packages and grinned as they made her wobble to accommodate them. Orihime looked shyly at him from over top of them.

"Do you want to see me in them?" she asked, looking up at him through thick lashes. There was a little bit of blush speckling his nose as his confident expression faltered.

"Err, you only need to try on the one you want to wear now," he said uncertainly, "They're all the same size." Orihime smiled regardless.

"Okay, Kurosaki-kun," she said happily, "I'll be right back."

Before Orihime could step toward her room, though, she was interrupted by Momo's rapid approach.

"Oh, Orihime-san!" she chirped, waving a hell butterfly perched firmly on her finger before her, "I'm glad I caught you!" Ichigo raised his eyebrow suspiciously.

"Momo, is that...?"

"It's a notification for the Shinigami Women's Association meeting this week," Momo said cheerfully. Orihime looked puzzled; they had meetings for female shinigami?

"They have a women's club here?" she asked, eager curiosity showing on her face. There had been a neighborhood women's association back in the human world, but meetings always left Orihime feeling a bit awkward and out of place. Maybe this one would be different? She'd always wanted to be part of a club and feel like she belonged.

Momo's expression lit up as she turned to Orihime. Both of them neatly ignored Ichigo's nauseous expression.

"Yes!" Momo happily offered, "Ise-san runs them, even though she's the Vice President of the club! Yachiru-chan is the President, so we always have lots of fun!" Ichigo couldn't hold back any more.

"Inoue, you don't really want to go," he said too quickly. Orihime favored him with a disappointed look. Uryuu hadn't liked her visiting the neighborhood women's association, either.

"Why not?" she asked innocently.

Ichigo felt slightly sea sick, and it showed in his expression. The last thing he wanted was for that Ise Nanao to start giving Orihime weird ideas. Her captain seemed to enjoy her stern attitude and her nagging; Ichigo simply wondered if the older man was insane or some kind of weird fetishist.

To be perfectly clear, though, Ichigo and Nanao were friends, as far as those sorts of things went. They usually got along well enough professionally. But they had clashed just as often personally. She would often blame him if he was in the vicinity whenever she caught her captain doing something she didn't approve of. If Ichigo took Shunsui drinking with him the one night of the month he went, he'd always get an angry hell butterfly the next day, loudly informing him that the Eighth Division captain had been grounded and wasn't supposed to have gone out or had passed out on his paperwork the following morning or had decided the office wastebasket was a urinal. And heaven forbid he tag along if Shunsui invited him; that somehow made the lectures _worse_.

Worse yet, she'd taught Momo a thing or two, as well. The younger woman was far from being the harsh taskmaster that Nanao was, but she wasn't above nagging him just like her. As the two were friends, it also wasn't uncommon for Momo to invite her over, where she could then personally disrupt Ichigo's day.

To say he didn't want or need Orihime picking up any of her habits was a bit of an understatement. Not only were they as different as night and day already, but Ichigo was quite taken with Orihime's personality as it was. He didn't want that to change.

"That's... That Ise..." He stammered, trying not to offend Momo, and trying not to sound bitter or mean in front of Orihime. Momo simply rolled her eyes and dismissed the butterfly.

"He doesn't get along with Ise-san, Orihime-chan," she said flatly, "He's probably afraid she'll teach you how to put him to work." Ichigo sputtered in indignation. Orihime simply looked politely curious.

"I already work!" he protested, "And I get along with her fine, as long as she's not nagging me!" Momo looked unmoved.

"She nags you for a reason, Captain," she pointed out bluntly. Ichigo felt like he was on the verge of a tantrum when Orihime spoke up.

"I'd still like to go," Orihime said softly with a smile, defusing the argument, "If you don't mind, Kurosaki-kun. It sounds like fun."

Ichigo sighed in defeat. Well, that was it. He'd lost. As he'd told Rukia earlier, he didn't decide where she could go and who she could see. So as much as he disliked it, she was going to go to the Shinigami Women's Association meeting.


	5. Chapter 5: Worry

**Title:** Til Death Do Us Part: Chapter Five - Worry  
**  
Warnings:** het (IchiHime), ANGST, dysfunctional relationships, adult themes

**Spoilers:** This is set ten years after the series, so spoilers up to the end of the HM/Arrancar Arc. Then it's AU.  
**  
Disclaimer:** These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

**Author's Note:** I finally got around to updating another fic! I don't want to neglect Moon Over the Tower since I'm in a good groove with it, but I thought it'd be a good chance for me to update another fic now that I've got a good head start on Moon! Now that my life has settled down a bit, I'm looking forward to being able to update more! But I'll probably just update this one and Moon until I finish one or the other. Then I'll move on to one of my other fics and work steadily on it.

* * *

"And that concludes this week's business."

Orihime sat towards the end of the table, furthest away from the speaker. She watched wide-eyed while the sharp, black-haired lady conducted her business. Even though Yachiru was the stated president of the Shinigami Women's Association, Ise Nanao actually ran the meeting for all intents and purposes.

Orihime followed the serious woman with her eyes. She was awestruck at how efficient and in control the young shinigami seemed to be. Part of her wished she could have that much control over her life and circumstances. If she had, perhaps things never would have reached this point.

"Booby-tan!"

The cheerful voice knocked her out of her depressing reverie. Orihime looked down just in time to see Yachiru's pink head rocketing straight into her midsection. She caught the small girl with a "woomph" as they collided, almost knocking them both to the floor. The little girl gave her a big, toothy grin as she looked up to Orihime's face.

"Yachiru-chan!" Orihime exclaimed, giving the pink-haired girl a hug, "How have you been? I missed you!" The girl held up a bag of konpeito to Orihime's face.

"You got here at a good time, Booby-tan!" Yachiru chirped, settling on Orihime's lap with a bounce, "We just got our budget for the year, so now we can get lots and lots of candy!"

"Taichou! Please be serious!"

The black-haired woman marched over to the two long lost friends with a frustrated sigh. She looked down at them, adjusting her glasses and staring in disapproval.

"A-Ah, Ise-san!" Orihime said, a light blush coloring her cheeks. The smaller woman turned to her with raised eyebrows.

"Good evening, Orihime-san," the Vice President acknowledged her, "I'm glad you could make it." Then, turning back to the tiny pink-haired girl, "Taichou, you can't be serious about the budget!"

Orihime watched with a small smile as Yachiru and Nanao fussed at each other over whether or not to spend the year's budget on chocolate rabbits or konpeito. It was sweet and lively and made her feel like she was back in high school and surrounded by friends again.

As she looked around, Orihime saw the other women enjoying themselves. Soi Fong and the third seat from Rukia's division, Kiyone, were picking food from the buffet table and fussing at each other. Her taller sister from Fourth Division, Isane, was carrying on a polite conversation with Momo. Rukia was doodling something in her sketchbook. And Rangiku...

"Guess who, Orihime-chan!"

Orihime's eyes were suddenly covered as Rangiku grabbed her from behind. She found each of her shoulders supporting the weight of Rangiku's breasts as she leaned over her. Even without being able to see her, Orihime's smile grew broad as she turned in her seat to try and face the older woman.

"Rangiku-san!" she exclaimed happily as Rangiku released her face. She saw the blonde's expression light up at her words.

"Uhooo, good guess, Orihime-chan!" she gushed, "You're so smart!" Orihime blushed and chuckled quietly as Yachiru stood up from her lap to address Rangiku.

"You'll smother her with those things, Ran-chan!" the little girl scolded, reaching over and grabbing a handful of Rangiku's breasts as she lifted them off Orihime's shoulders. Rangiku looked only mildly annoyed while Orihime continued to blush madly.

"Yachiru-chan!" Rangiku huffed, "Hasn't Zaraki-taichou taught you not to grab other women there?" Yachiru looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment.

"Well," Yachiru said, blinking her red eyes at Rangiku slowly, "Ken-chan did say that he wouldn't mind grabbing your boobies sometime!" Orihime's face practically caught fire at Yachiru's innocent declaration. Rangiku simply looked like she was going to explode.

"Taichou!" Nanao gasped, steadying her glasses, "That is completely inappropriate!" Yachiru was undeterred.

"I thought it was funny!" the pink-haired girl exclaimed, "And they're fun to squish!" To demonstrate, she gave the blonde's breasts another big squeeze over Orihime's shoulders. Rangiku squealed angrily in response.

"Taichou."

Before a fight could break out with Orihime literally in the middle, a calm voice drew everyone's attention away from the little scuffle. Orihime looked up from the little girl in her lap to see a serene black-haired young woman staring back at her. Her hair was pulled into a braid behind her and her green eyes were half-lidded, observing Orihime keenly. She held a round tray before her thighs, which were only half-covered by her short shihakushou.

"Refreshments have been served," the placid young woman continued. Yachiru hopped off Orihime's lap with a delighted squeal, leaving a puzzled redhead behind to stare after her bemusedly. But since she hadn't been introduced to this girl before, she figured now would be as good a time as any to say hello.

"O-Oh, I don't think we've met before," Orihime said with a smile. The black-haired girl gave her an impassive blink.

"No," she replied simply, "We have not. I am Kurotsuchi Nemu. You are Ishida Orihime-san, correct?" Something about her tone of voice was unsettling, but Orihime put it aside for the time being.

"Not anymore," she corrected the other woman with no hint of regret, "It's just Inoue again now, since I'm dead." Nemu simply stared at her for a moment. Some imperceptible change took place, although Orihime was ignorant as to what it could be. So she smiled awkwardly, wondering if the other woman was actually going to say anything else.

"I see," was all she finally said, "Very well, Inoue-san. Welcome to the Shinigami Women's Association."

"A-Ah, thank you," Orihime stuttered uncertainly as Nemu turned to walk away.

"Don't mind her, Orihime-chan," Rangiku said from over her shoulder, "She's always like that. Probably comes from living with that father of hers, poor thing."

Orihime remembered the grotesque man with a small shudder. She remembered the name, even if she didn't exactly remember Nemu herself. Still, she wasn't quite sure what to make of the other girl's strange behavior. Maybe she was just really socially awkward? Before she could think too hard about it, though, Yachiru returned with a sandwich in hand.

"Come on, Booby-tan!" the little girl exclaimed, "They brought egg sandwiches! Those are the best kind!" Forgetting her earlier apprehension, Orihime rose to follow her.

* * *

Ichigo knew pacing wasn't helping anything, but he just couldn't help it.

He couldn't sit still. He knew it shouldn't worry him, but this was the first time Orihime had been out of the barracks for more than a shopping trip. It made him uneasy for her to be gone so long. Worse still, she was with that Ise. He half-expected her to return and thwack him in the face with a book for not having his desk clean enough.

He wasn't sure why the prospect had him so worried. He knew Orihime was a sweet person and wasn't someone who'd just start nagging out of the blue. Sure she could be impressionable, but he knew there were outer limits to her behavior that she wouldn't cross. Maybe he just didn't entirely like the idea of her excluding him again after so many years apart.

That thought settled a blush on his cheeks. When did he get so possessive of another man's wife? Just the thought of her being married sent a groan through him as he clutched his head mid-stride. He could tell this whole affair was going to end badly.

"Yare yare," a voice floated in from the veranda of his quarters, "You look like you're going to wear a hole in your floor if you keep pacing like that." Ichigo stopped pacing and groaned again; he knew he would be getting an angry hell butterfly in the morning already.

"What is it, Kyouraku-san?" Ichigo said with just a hint of exasperation. The scruffy, pink-clad Captain swooshed into the room from outside, sake jug and bowls in hand.

"I just figured you could use some company, that's all," came the airy reply, "I heard you were going to be on your own tonight and thought I'd stop by." He situated himself at Ichigo's low table, laying out two bowls and pouring some sake for each of them. Ichigo sighed and plopped down opposite the straw-hatted man. Shunsui wasn't the type of guy who'd leave someone be if he wanted something, so Ichigo knew it was pointless to try and resist. "Sake?"

Ichigo took the proffered bowl with a mumbled 'thanks' and downed it in one gulp.

"Go ahead and ask," he said, cheeks burning already as he sat down the bowl, "I know you're curious." He was under no illusions about the nosy old man's reason for his visit.

"You wound me, Ichigo-kun!" Shunsui feigned offense before sipping his own bowl of sake, "I had just heard rumors you were housing a young lady of exceptional beauty in your division and wanted to see if they were true!" Ichigo reached for the sake and poured himself another bowl before quickly downing that one, too. Of course he'd go right for _that_ topic.

"She's married, Kyouraku-san," Ichigo quickly stopped that conversation before it even started, "To a friend of mine. Besides that, she's way too young for you." The older shinigami faked distress at this point.

"I'm not _that_ old," he practically pouted, "But I suppose that explains the pacing. I had just assumed it was your first time being separated from her." Ichigo's blush returned full-force. This old man was more observant than he let on.

"That has nothing to do with it!" Ichigo blurted out, quicker than he probably should've, "I'm just worried about what that demon of a Vice Captain of yours is teaching her!" Shunsui's eyebrow raised, but he took the distraction anyway. Ichigo figured he wouldn't be able to resist talking about his lieutenant.

"Now, now!" Shunsui said soothingly, "Nanao-chan won't tell her anything too bad! She wouldn't hurt a fly!" For some reason, Ichigo immediately pictured the thin woman using that enormous book of hers for a flyswatter. He poured himself another bowl, wondering if Orihime's vivid imagination was rubbing off on him.

"Tell me that again in the morning, after she sends me another nastygram," he grumbled, taking care to actually sip this bowl instead of just gulping it down. Shunsui simply watched, pouring another for himself as well. After another few minutes of silence, the black-haired man finally spoke, making Ichigo wish he'd just stayed quiet.

"So," he said over his uplifted bowl, "what do you intend to do about her?" Ichigo had no illusions he might actually be referring to Nanao and not Orihime.

"Nothing," he muttered over his own bowl, "She's married to a friend, remember?" Shunsui lifted his chin for a little scratch as he thought.

"So?"

"_So?_" Ichigo sputtered, his sake almost going down the wrong way, "So she's off-limits!" Shunsui's look grew devious.

"Didn't you know?" he mused, "Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, Ichigo-kun!" Ichigo nearly spit his sake out; instead, it went up his nose, causing him to cough and sputter.

"I-Inoue's not fruit!" he choked out. Shunsui looked mildly concerned, but not concerned enough to put his bowl down.

"Well, where is her husband?" Shunsui asked patiently. Ichigo thought he must know very well where he was to be asking that, but simply glared while he pounded his chest instead of pointing this out.

"Back in the human world," Ichigo croaked, "He's still alive." Shunsui's face lit up at this admission.

"Oh, so they're not married anymore!" he exclaimed. Ichigo groaned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was already getting a headache.

"Just because she's here now doesn't mean she doesn't still love him," he murmured into his sake bowl, "Death doesn't mean her feelings have changed." Shunsui tsked and shook his head.

"Well, how is she acting?" he asked. Ichigo was suddenly dumbfounded. What kind of a question was that?

"What do you mean?" he grumbled, "What does that have to do with anything?" Shunsui looked at him in disbelief.

"It has everything to do with it!" Shunsui exclaimed with a laugh, reaching over to slap Ichigo on the back, "Is she happy here? Or does she mope around all day?" Ichigo blinked. Where was he going with this?

"Well, I..." Ichigo stammered, "I guess she's alright? She seemed kind of upset at first, crying and stuff, but now she's... pretty happy, I guess." Shunsui looked satisfied with that answer.

"See?" he said, "She's happy here! If she missed him, wouldn't she be more upset?" Ichigo wasn't impressed.

"Inoue's always happy," he grunted, "It doesn't mean anything. And there's nothing she can do now but wait for him to die, anyway. What use would moping be?" Shunsui gave him a look that could only be described as piteous.

"Well, have you asked her?" the older shinigami asked, "It's obvious you care for her." Ichigo looked down at his table in shame.

"Of course not," he said quietly, "I don't want her to feel pressured or weird or anything." The other man shook his head as he finished his bowl of sake.

"Don't wait too long, Ichigo-kun," he warned, "You already lost her once, didn't you?"

As much as he wanted to deny it, it was a bitter truth. And because of Renji and Rangiku's big mouths, it was fairly common knowledge among their circle of friends how badly he missed Orihime after his forced sequester in Soul Society had begun. Shunsui was no exception. He figured the older man had heard about Orihime's stay here in the same way he found out about his thwarted affection for her; through those same friends.

"Yeah," he finally sighed, refilling his bowl yet again.

* * *

When Orihime finally got back to the barracks with Momo, it was all dark and still. It was well after bedtime, and the rest of the division was already all tucked in. Still, Orihime wanted to check on Ichigo.

He had seemed a bit nervous before she'd left, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by her. She'd tried her best to reassure him, and he'd given her a small, nervous smile, but there was still that underlying anxiety. She wanted to reassure him one more time before bed, just to let him know everything had turned out fine.

But as she knocked on the frame of his door, she could hear nothing beyond it.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

When she received no answer, she slid the door open just wide enough to be able to see inside the dark room. She could make out a form bent over the low table in the middle of the room, the light from the moon outside illuminating him and casting shadows over Ichigo's peacefully sleeping face. His head was pillowed on his arms and he was snoring softly. Orihime smiled to herself; when he was sleeping, he looked so young and carefree.

She padded over to the futon that Ichigo had already laid out, apparently before he'd passed out at his table, and picked up his blanket. Then she moved over to him, pulling the cover up over his shoulders. She crouched down next to him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead and smiled, suppressing a small giggle.

"You'll catch a cold like that," she whispered fondly. She lingered longer than she absolutely needed to, recalling a night far in the past when she'd leaned over him in a similar manner. And once again, she felt that same desire to just lean in and kiss him.

This time, though, instead of pulling away, she simply settled for gently kissing his temple. He huffed a little as her lips left his flesh, but other than that he didn't stir. She smiled warmly, hoping he wouldn't mind. And after another few moments of warmth, Orihime rose and went to close his veranda door.

"Goodnight, Kurosaki-kun."

* * *

All was still in the Fifth Division barracks. A few days had passed since Orihime's Women's Association meeting, and things had returned mostly to normal. Ichigo had been reassured that Orihime wouldn't turn into Nanao and Orihime had been happy with the socializing she'd gotten to do. And her happiness had picked up everyone's spirits, even Ichigo's. Of course, he'd still gotten an angry hell butterfly from Nanao the next morning, but that was to be expected.

Now, though, it was well after midnight in the barracks. All the shinigami were asleep in bed, lights having been out for a couple hours yet. The only sounds that could be heard were those of sleepy crickets and the occasional dog. And the waning moon cast pale light and shadows indiscriminately throughout the barracks wherever an open window would allow.

It was through one of these windows that a shadowy figure slid. It crawled silently along the floors, sticking to shadow where it could and moving quickly where it could not. It knew exactly where it was going and how to get there.

A few scant minutes later, it slid the door it was looking for along its frame, making a soft 'whooshing' noise. There, on a futon in the middle of the room was the target. She was asleep, breathing deeply and causing the blanket to move with the rise and fall of her chest. She made small noises as she breathed, little squeaky sighs that caused the shadow's eyes to narrow. In a few minutes, she would be completely silent forever.

Softly, the black-clad figure padded towards the futon on which lay Inoue Orihime, safely sleeping.


End file.
